Check Mate
by Silverblacktears
Summary: A short Legacy of Kain fic featuring another Sire and 'Child' combination to the usual one.


Title: Check Mate

Summary: A short Legacy of Kain fic featuring another Sire and 'Child' combination to the usual one.

Inspired by some art I saw on line of Vorador and Janos, this little mini is just my go at writing the pair.

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It was a tradition that no amount of arguments between them would break.

They both sat on opposite sides, surveying a board that had been badly abused by time much like they had; the pieces were well worn and in places rather battered but the pair watched these tiny soldiers with the intensity of hawks. A clawed hand reached for a white queen and the piece glided over the tiles, taking out a pawn in it's majestic journey, "An interestingly bold move for you," Vorador said with the hint of a chuckle to his words. It was an all too obvious ploy to draw forth his own queen and Vorador was soon hunting the board for another trap; there was no way his sire would make such an obvious move without something dangerous lurking three moves after it.

And so hours passed, Janos drew his legs up so that his knees were before his chest and waited for his 'Childs' move; when it came, Vorador moved only one of his pawns and Janos allowed himself a secret smile. In trying to avoid a trap, Vorador had inadvertently sprung another one, Janos made his move in moments rather then hours; taking a knight with his queen, Janos quickly glanced the board before releasing her. "Check Mate,"

A few minutes of silent surprise lingered in Vorador's eyes as he glowered over the board; it had been two hundred and fifty years since their last match, he had been theorising for a lot of that time and still his Ancient Sire had beaten him. "Impossible ..." Vorador muttered, still peering at the board in the vain hope of spotting an error made by his Sire.

"It was a good game," Janos said cheerfully, he lent over so as to shake his opponents hand and Vorador grudgingly shook it; his sire tended to insist on these little moments of sportsmanship being adhered to and Vorador felt incapable of denying him this formality. The Ancient picked himself up from his chair and drained his goblet of blood before stretching out his back and wings; they had spent well over a week on the game, considering and plotting their immediate moves without much conversation.

It took a battle of wills for this game not to turn into a fight of some kind; Vorador brought an arm across his body to make the shoulder crack and relieve an ache there. "Have you been well?" Janos asked, he had his back to Vorador and the green skinned Vampire allowed himself a small smile; he often feared his sire lost interest in him due to his total devotion to his duty as the guardian of the Reaver.

"Well enough," Vorador replied, he moved to look out into the night. "What of you?"

Janos dreaded the question; what was the honest answer anyway? He had been suicidal for a few days one hundred years ago and yet managed to keep on this continuing plane of existence to pass on the Reaver blade to his hero? He doubted Vorador would want to hear it; nodding his head, the Ancient moved to refill his goblet from a warm bowl to the side. "Surviving,"

"At least one of you still does that,"

It wasn't intentional, Vorador never said these things to intentionally hurt his sire but a stab of unmistakable pain struck Janos as he said it; Janos could not describe his pain at being the very last one of his kin, at having watched all the others fall into madness and eventually take their own lives. It must have bit into the very air, for Vorador reconsidered his words, "Apologies," He muttered.

The younger Vampire moved to take his jacket from the back of the chair he had been sitting on, he knew it was probably time for him to leave. "Two hundred and fifty years then," He said casually, moving to take the black pieces from the board.

"If not before," Janos predicted, turning to face Vorador, his form framed by the moonlight as he looked back into the room; to Vorador▓s eyes, he looked thin and drained, something of an echo of the proud being who had created him so many centuries ago.

"It is a great shame you won't come to me," Vorador replied, "My manse is shaping up nicely."

"Oh? I do not doubt it," Janos replied with the ghost of a smile, "The master crafter Vorador has shaped its creation after all." There was pride in his voice and the warmth won through to Vorador; there were days he hated his sire, cursed the others existence but at others he was his biggest supporter. Whilst he understood Janos' single minded belief in the prophecies, he himself did not agree with the rather cryptic idea of a 'redeemer and destroyer'; Vorador preferred things less complicated.

"Maybe one day," Janos offered, there was a twinge of hope to his words and Vorador realised that waiting truly was some form of penance to his sire, for what exactly he could never fathom but Vorador knew Janos felt the need to do this.

"I count on it," Vorador insisted with a small smile, he pulled his coat on over his broad shoulders and reached for the door handle; something told him to stay a while longer, that Janos needed his company for a few more days and he sighed. Pulling his coat off again, Vorador tossed it over the back of his chair.

Janos blinked at him a few times, his surprise showing in his eyes, "I have time for another," Vorador lied, sitting back down again, he set the board again and gestured the board with one hand, "Make your move, Sire,■

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END

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